A Kiss Before Dawn Page 4

  Across the room, her eyes met Peter’s, and a tingle shot through her at the intensity of his expression.

  Dear God, how was she ever going to get through this night? Or for that matter, the days to come?

  Chapter 4

  "And the next thing I know, they’re planning a dinner party to celebrate his return home!”

  Emily gave Artemis’s side another vigorous stroke with the currycomb and looked over her shoulder at Jenna, who stood slouched against a post at the entrance to the stall, arms crossed and peaked cap pulled forward to shade her eyes. “Can you believe it? It’s as if they’ve all forgotten how he just up and left without a thought to us.”

  As if suddenly realizing how childishly indignant she sounded, Emily turned back to her horse with a careless shrug. “Not that any of that matters to me, of course.”

  A snort from behind her caused an embarrassed heat to creep into her cheeks. “It doesn’t,” she insisted, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. “But it hurt Tristan and Deirdre a great deal. Not to mention Benji and the other children at Willow Park who have always adored him.”

  She reached out with a gentle hand to rub her mare’s velvety muzzle, and Artemis gave a soft nicker in response. “And then to find out that he’s here to help with the investigation into the Oxfordshire thefts…” She shook her head. “Oh, Jenna, what are we going to do?”

  When only silence greeted her, she whirled about once again to face her companion. “Jenna? Are you listening?”

  The girl started and straightened from her nonchalant pose, reaching up to push her cap back from her forehead. “You’re asking me? ’Ere I thought you’d forgotten I was even ’ere.”

  “Jenna, this is not a joking matter.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” Her friend sniffed and tossed her dark-brown braid over her shoulder. “I ’aven’t exactly been enjoying myself while you’ve been nattering on about Peter Quick for the last hour. You’ve barely even stopped for breath, so I didn’t think your question needed an answer. You seemed to be carrying on the conversation well enough on your own.”

  Emily bit her lip. Jenna was right. She’d done little else since she’d joined the younger girl here in the stables but fret over Peter’s arrival. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I don’t understand how they can all behave as if the last four years don’t matter. We’re just supposed to forget everything he’s done to hurt us, I suppose.”

  “Don’t you mean what ’e’s done to ’urt you?”

  “Yes. I mean no. I mean…Oh, I don’t know what I mean!” With a frustrated huff, Emily tossed aside the currycomb and sank down onto a nearby stool. “Drat Peter Quick! The man scrambles my wits until I don’t know which way is up.”

  “Maybe you should be considering why that is.”

  “I know why that is. He’s a Bow Street Runner. One of the best, if the tales I’ve heard about him are true. If he finds out what I’m doing, who knows how he might react.”

  “Why don’t you try telling ’im?”

  The male voice had both women looking up in surprise to find a lean, gangly figure lounging just inside the stall, watching them with intent green eyes.

  A cheerful young man with a shock of shaggy red hair and an open, freckled face, Miles Riley had been one of the original members of the Rag-Tag Bunch as well as one of Peter’s good friends. Like the other children, he’d grown up at Willow Park, but unlike them he’d decided to stay in Little Haverton once he’d come of age to strike out on his own. His affinity for animals, especially horses, had prompted Lord Ellington to offer him a job in the stables at Knighthaven, and aside from Jenna, he was the only person who knew Emily’s secret. More than once in the past few weeks she’d had cause to be thankful for the stable hand’s help.

  But now she found herself wondering at his sanity. “Tell him? Miles, are you mad?”

  The young man lifted his chin in a defensive manner. “Well, we certainly ’aven’t been able to discover a way out of this mess ourselves. Maybe ’e can.”

  “Or maybe he could toss us all in Newgate and throw away the key.” Emily shot to her feet again and began to pace the stall, her movements agitated. “You know how he’s changed in the past eight years, Miles. He’d never understand why we chose this path.”

  “I ’ate to admit it,” Jenna said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her breeches and taking a step forward. “But maybe Miles is right. Maybe we should go to Peter.”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know, Jenna. There’s just no way to predict what he might do. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten his old life. What it was like to be hungry and desperate and willing to do anything in order to get by.”

  Jenna’s face closed up. “Believe me, you don’t forget something like that.”

  Emily felt a pang of sympathy as she looked at her friend. A former pickpocket herself, the girl had more than a passing acquaintance with both hunger and desperation.

  As a child, Jenna’s very existence had been a daily struggle to stay alive. Her parents, Angus and Rachel McLean, were the caretakers of Willow Park now, thanks to the generosity of Lord and Lady Ellington. But at one time, the McLeans had simply been one of the hundreds of poverty-stricken families trying to survive in the rookeries of London. It had been Tristan who had offered them a home and a chance to make a better life for Jenna and their younger daughter, Gracie.

  With an age difference of only two years between them, it hadn’t taken long for Emily and Jenna to become fast friends. And though the younger girl’s brusque manner could be somewhat irritating, Emily couldn’t help but admire her bold, forthright attitude, and she had been grateful many times over the years for her friend’s advice and support.

  Especially recently. She didn’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t had Jenna and Miles to turn to for help when this whole ordeal had started.

  “You know.” Jenna’s slow drawl drew her from her musings, and Emily looked up to find the girl watching her through narrowed brown eyes. “You never did tell us just what ’appened between you and Peter that night before ’e lit out.”

  “That’s true,” Miles mused, his expression curious. “Every time we’ve tried to ask you about it, you’ve put us off. Did you ’ave an argument or something?”

  Emily quickly avoided their too-perceptive stares. “Not precisely,” she murmured.

  An argument. If only it had been that simple.

  She had first met Peter Quick eight years ago, soon after the late earl’s death and Tristan’s return home. Angry with her brother for the years he’d stayed away and left her in the care of their indifferent father, she’d fought him at every turn, and had finally decided to teach him a lesson by running away.

  It had been Peter along with his band of pickpockets, the Rag-Tag Bunch, who had taken her in off the streets, who had offered her shelter and taught her the art of picking pockets with the best of them. And it had been Peter who had listened to her endless complaints about Tristan and eventually made her see things from her brother’s point of view. By the time Tristan had found her, she had come to the realization that he deserved a second chance and that she’d been far from innocent in their battle of wills.

  It was through Tristan’s search for her, she had discovered, that he had met Deirdre. He had enlisted the widow’s aid to locate Emily, and the two had fallen in love. An angel of mercy for the people of the rookeries, Deirdre’s past as a pickpocket had led to her dream of opening a home for former street urchins, and after her marriage to Tristan, that dream had become a reality.

  And so Willow Park had been born, and the Rag-Tag Bunch had come to live there. From that moment on, Emily and Peter had been inseparable, and she had watched in awe as he had set out with fierce determination to better himself. Older than the rest of the children, he had found school lessons to be even more difficult for him than they were for the others, but he had never given up. Before long, he was reading and writing as well as Emily
. He’d also managed to eradicate every last vestige of the Cockney accent he had spoken with for most of his life, though not without a struggle.

  He had never seemed able to comprehend how very far he’d come, Emily thought now, resting her head against Artemis’s side. But she’d seen it and had admired him all the more for it. And over time, their bond of friendship had grown and developed into something deeper, stronger.

  In fact, she’d given him her heart.

  She squeezed her eyes shut in remembered pain at how very foolish she’d been. She’d truly believed that Peter had felt the same way, that all of the words of love they had exchanged, the sweet kisses and caresses they had shared, had meant just as much to him.

  But in those last few weeks before Peter had left Willow Park, something had changed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the exact moment when it had happened, but suddenly he had become withdrawn, distant. She had felt him drifting away, and it had frightened her. Frightened her so much that it had tempted her into doing something altogether rash on the night of her eighteenth birthday. All in an effort to regain Peter’s attention.

  Well, she’d gotten his attention, that was certain. But it hadn’t at all turned out the way she’d planned. They had come so close to making love that night, had shared the most passionate kiss she could ever remember indulging in.

  Yet he’d slipped away before the dawn without even a farewell, leaving her heart shattered.

  “What do you mean, not precisely?” Jenna’s voice prompted with impatience. “Either you ’ad an argument or you didn’t.”

  She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, still not meeting her friend’s eyes. She wasn’t about to go into the details with Jenna and Miles. “Yes, I suppose you could say it was an argument. But I’d rather not talk about that now. I have far more important matters on my mind. Such as how I’m going to deal with all of this.”

  Miles shrugged. “I still think we should tell someone. Even if you don’t trust Peter, you could still go to your brother. ’E’d know ’ow to take care of that devil.”

  Emily shook her head. “We can’t do that, Miles, and you know why.” She was doing all this to protect Tristan. If he should find out that their whole lives might have been a lie…

  Jenna laid a hand on her arm in sympathy. “Don’t worry, Em. You’ll find a way out of this. You always do.”

  “Right now I’d be happy just to figure out how to get through this evening.” Emily looked up at the girl pleadingly. “I wish you’d change your mind and come with your parents tonight. It would make things much more bearable for me if you were going to be there.”

  “Sorry, but not bloody likely.” Jenna gave her head a vehement shake. “There’s no way in ’ell I’m getting all prettied up and prancing around like a blooming idiot.”

  “Why not?” Miles interjected, grinning wickedly in Jenna’s direction. “It wouldn’t ’urt you to act like a lady for once, you know. After all, you do tend to forget you’re a female every now and again.”

  “Oh, bugger off!” Jenna groused, sending a fulminating glare in his direction. “Don’t you ’ave better things to do than stand around offering unwanted advice?”

  “It depends.” He let his gaze travel down over her slender form clad in men’s breeches and a simple broadcloth shirt. “But if you ask me, you need all the ’elp you can get.”

  Jenna started toward him in a menacing manner, but Emily caught her by the elbow, holding her back as the young man burst into laughter, then turned and strode out of the stall.

  A growling noise emitted from deep in Jenna’s throat as she pulled her arm from Emily’s grasp and glowered after his departing form. “One of these days ’e’s going to push me too far. As it is,’ e’s about to drive me bloody barmy. I don’t know why ’e bothers to stick around ’ere instead of moving on like all the others.”

  Emily was relatively certain she knew why, though she doubted Jenna would want to hear it. Her friend had never seemed to have much use for men, and for the most part she acted as if she were completely oblivious to their charms. If Miles had any intentions in that direction, he would have his work cut out for him.

  Turning with a sigh, she moved back to Artemis’s side, raising a hand to pat the mare’s neck. As if sensing her disquiet, the horse snorted and nudged her mistress’s shoulder. “What am I going to do, Jenna? I have to figure out a way to avoid Peter as much as possible until this is all over. The less often I see him, the less chance there is that he’ll catch on to what I’m up to.”

  Jenna eyed her doubtfully. “And just ’ow do you plan on doing that when ’e’s right ’ere in the same ’ouse wiv you?”

  That was a very good question, and one Emily currently had no answer for.

  Why, oh, why had Tristan and Deirdre insisted upon him staying here at Knighthaven instead of at Willow Park as he had in the past? Having him underfoot was certain to make things that much more difficult for her, especially on the nights she had to slip out. Not to mention that having to see him every day was bound to stir up all of those old, tempestuous feelings she’d fought so long and so hard to forget. Feelings she had no desire to revisit.

  “I have no idea, Jenna,” she finally said aloud, lifting her chin with renewed resolve. “But I shall think of something.”

  She had to. She had no other choice.

  Chapter 5

  Peter reached up to give his cravat another impatient tug, then turned to face the mirror one last time, surveying his reflection with a critical eye.

  Well, he wasn’t precisely in the first stare of fashion, but he would do, he supposed, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a wry smile. The double-breasted coat of dark blue superfine and tan buckskin breeches had been purchased for the rare occasions when his job made it necessary for him to mingle with the more aristocratic members of society, but he had never felt comfortable wearing them, and tonight was no exception. They were the clothes of a gentleman, and that was something he had never professed to being.

  He shook his head. If he had even half a mind, he would have continued to maintain that a dinner in his honor was not necessary, but one look at the countess’s pleading expression and he’d been unable to say no.

  “I want to thank you for going along with Deirdre’s plans for this evening,” Tristan had said to him once they had excused themselves and quit the parlor, leaving Lady Ellington and Lilah to their excited buzzing. “I know you’ve never enjoyed these sorts of things, but it’s her way of distracting herself from her worry over the babe.” The earl had given a rueful chuckle. “I’ve discovered it does little good to protest when she sets her mind to something. Far better to allow her to do as she wishes rather than fight it.”

  Perhaps that was true, Peter thought now with a slight grimace, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with the situation. At least tonight shouldn’t be too much of a strain. He knew and liked everyone who would be present, and it might afford him the opportunity to speak with Benji and discover exactly what was going on in that quarter.

  As for Emily, he hadn’t seen a sign of her since they had all gone their separate ways earlier that morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she might be deliberately avoiding him. If so, she likely had the right idea. They were both far better off if they stayed out of each other’s way as much as possible.

  Well, that was enough dragging his feet. The sooner he made his way downstairs to join the party, the sooner this evening would be over with. The sound of a carriage outside his bedroom window had signaled the arrival of the first of their guests a quarter of an hour ago, and he could not put it off any longer without seeming rude.

  Straightening his shoulders, he turned on his heel and left the chamber.

  The moment he stepped out into the hallway, the murmur of voices drifted up to him from downstairs, soft feminine laughter followed by a deep baritone. Hurrying his strides, he turned the corner onto the upstairs landing just in time to nearly run into someone
coming from the opposite direction.

  Words of apology hovering on his lips, he looked up to find himself staring into Emily’s startled eyes. His breath left him in a rush, taking his request for forgiveness with it.

  Dainty and delicate, she was a vision of beauty, as luminous as the moon that shone through the windows behind them, casting its pale light over her in an ethereal glow. Dressed in a full-skirted evening gown of palest blue silk shot through with strands of silver, and with her golden hair swept up in a mass of ringlets that tumbled about her heart-shaped face, she looked fey and innocent.

  Untouchable.

  He gave her a polite bow. “Lady Emily.”

  “Mr. Quick.” The curtsy she offered him in return was stiff and not quite steady, and it gave him an odd feeling of satisfaction to know that he was capable of throwing her off balance. At least she wasn’t indifferent to him. He thought he could stand anything but that. Even her hatred.

  Unable to help himself, he let his gaze trail over her in a visual survey that was practically a caress, taking in the blond curls that clung to the slender line of her throat, the creamy expanse of skin bared by the low neckline of her gown. As he watched, a slow tide of pink crept into her cheeks, and he couldn’t restrain the slight smile that curled his mouth at her response to his stare.

  “You look lovely,” he told her, his tone rife with a husky intimacy that he couldn’t seem to quell.

  She inclined her head in a gracious manner, though she continued to watch him with eyes that were shadowed with distrust. “Thank you, sir. You look quite dashing yourself.”